As Oscar time rolls around, the year’s best acting performances are supposed to come under scrutiny. Who was more convincingly tragic, Sean Penn’s martyred politician or Mickey Rourke’s tormented wrestler? Is Kate Winslet finally due, or will Meryl Streep add more gold to her collection? And then there’s the elephant-in-the-room called Heath Ledger, who will almost certainly receive the second-ever posthumous acting Oscar (and deservingly so; the first was given to late actor Peter Finch in 1976.).

But there’s a class of acting, a school in which most of Hollywood dabbles at least once, that will go completely overlooked at the Kodak Theater this month: voiceovers. The Academy currently has no award for voice acting. Why not?

Until very recently, actors received little to no recognition for creating cartoons’ memorable voices. Animated films were sold on the strength of visuals and characters, but almost never on the name of the person in the booth. Did you know, for instance, that Matthew Broderick—Ferris Bueller—was Simba? Or can you name any film in which either Paige O’Hara or Robby Benson starred? (Those would be the voices of Belle and the Beast.)

In Japan, the land of one thousand anime, this has never been the case. Japanese voice actors, called seiyu, often become celebrities purely on the merit of their voices. The result has been a marked increase in quality for Japanese anime voiceovers in comparison to their often corny and low-budget American equivalents. (The original Speed Racer was a wonderful cartoon, but the English voices were regularly risible.)

The American situation began to change in 1992, when Robin Williams brought down the house as Aladdin’s big blue Genie. As a sign of the times, the animation-honoring Annie Awards opened a category for voice work in 1994. By the time Shrek demolished the box office in 2001, posters were selling the film as Myers-Murphy-Diaz-Lithgow. Today, the absolute A-list is regularly on board: Depp in Corpse Bride, Jolie in Kung Fu Panda, Pitt in Sinbad, and Clooney in an upcoming Fantastic Mr. Fox.

So with voice-acting officially legit, it’s high time that the Academy Awards got on board. The Academy added the Best Animated Feature award for 2001, and the Golden Globes followed suit in 2006, but both currently fail to acknowledge non live-action acting. Each should seriously consider adding an award for Best Voice Actor in an Feature Film.

What would such an award do for the industry? It would encourage stars to bring the same intellectual depth to a cartoon that they might to artsy December Oscar-bait. It would give an opportunity for under-the-radar stars like Patrick Warburton to be recognized for their superiority over bigger names in the field. And it would further the legitimization of the animated film as art on an equal scale with live-action, an undertaking to which Pixar has already contributed immensely.

In the spirit of my suggestion, I’ve gone back 10 Academy Awards, and presented my choices for who should have won a hypothetical Best Voice Actor Oscar:

• 70^th (1997): James Woods as “Hades” in Hercules. Woods gives the god of the Underworld a hilarious fast-talking car-salesman makeover in an otherwise utterly average film. (Runner-up: Hank Azaria as “Bartok” in Anastasia.)
• 71^st (1998): Ming-Na Wen as “Mulan” in Mulan. With no truly incredible standouts in 1998, Wen does capture the transformation of Mulan from nervous imposter to confident warrior-woman. (Runner-up: Val Kilmer as “Moses” in The Prince of Egypt.)
• 72^nd (1999): Tim Allen as “Buzz Lightyear” in Toy Story 2. Most of Allen’s film career has been a painful joke, but his Buzz is beyond memorable even in a second iteration. (Runner-up: Trey Parker as “Eric Cartman” in South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut.)
• 73^rd (2000): Patrick Warburton as “Kronk” in The Emperor’s New Groove. Warburton’s hapless henchman was such a breakout character in the surprisingly funny film that he got his own direct-to-video sequel. (Runner-up: Eartha Kitt as “Yzma” in The Emperor’s New Groove.)
• 74^th (2001): Eddie Murphy as “Donkey” in Shrek. Murphy barely beats out his three co-stars, if only because despite being an endless chatterbox, Donkey is always ten times more funny than annoying (Runner-up: Cameron Diaz as “Princess Fiona” in Shrek.)
• 75^th (2002): Ray Romano as “Manny” in Ice Age. Who knew that that goofball from Everybody Loves Raymond could be such a poignant sad-sack of a mammoth? (Runner-up: Daveigh Chase as “Lilo” in Lilo and Stitch.)
• 76^th (2003): Ellen DeGeneres as “Dory” in Finding Nemo. Of course. DeGeneres is hilarious and pitch-perfect as a memory-afflicted regal tang, full of bizarre non-sequiturs and childish playfulness. And she speaks “whale”! (Runner-up: Jeremy Suarez as “Koda” in Brother Bear.)
• 77^th (2004): Brad Bird as “Edna Mode” in The Incredibles. This makes two Annie-identical picks in a row, but I can’t disagree. Bird’s diminutive costume designer packs almost every belly-laugh in the film into maybe three minutes of screen time. (Runner-up: Mike Myers as “Shrek” in Shrek 2.)
• 78^th (2005) Peter Sallis as “Wallace” in Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Make that three. This dimwitted Wensleydale-loving Brit may be outclassed by his own (silent) dog, but Sallis shines. (Runner-up: Ralph Finnes as “Victor Quartermaine” in Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.)
• 79^th (2006) Steve Carrell as “Hammy” in Over the Hedge. This performance was sadly overlooked. Usually playing a calmer sort of fool, Carrell absurdly cuts loose here, and his silly, hyperactive squirrel runs away with the film. (Runner-up: Paul Newman as “Doc Hudson” in Cars.)
• 80^th (2007) Janeane Garofalo as “Collette” in Ratatouille. On paper, Collette is a dull, trite love interest. On screen, she shreds every scene with Garofalo’s biting French accent. (Runner-up: Nancy Cartwright as “Bart Simpson” in The Simpsons Movie.)

And this year? Well, I’m having difficulty picking just one or two… so, in continuing proper Oscars spirit, I give you my five nominees for best voice acting in 2008, alphabetically:

• Jack Black as “Po” in Kung Fu Panda.
• Susie Essman as “Mittens” in Bolt.
• Dustin Hoffman as “Shifu” in Kung Fu Panda.
• Mark Walton as “Rhino” in Bolt.
• Sigourney Weaver as “Ship’s Computer” in WALL-E.

You tell me who you think deserves a statue. I say any of them do, and it’s a damn shame they won’t have that chance.

It’s probably appropriate that this story about geekiness starts with a Latin class. Being your high school’s highest scorer on the AP Latin exam is kind of like being that guy with the world’s biggest Star Wars collection: a false feeling of accomplishment to accompany the giant “DORK” stamp across your forehead. (Also, I forgot it all the second I entered college Spanish.) But it was my junior-year Latin class that accidentally brought me something else. Something totally different. Something… even nerdier.

The assignment was normal enough: find songs in your playlist that match the themes of Virgil’s Aeneid. (Latin projects didn’t always actually involve… y’know, Latin.) Five years ago, though, I got most of my music from the first radio station the tuner found. I didn’t know artists or songs. So I appealed to an online pen-pal: what’s a good song for a bunch of warriors sailing around on an epic quest?

He sent me an mp3. Some little-known British band . A song called “Evening Star.”

I was blown away.

The song oozed pretentious grandeur. A soft piano intro exploded into an unbelievably fast guitar shred-fest, double-bass drumming, and soaring melodic vocals crying out glorious, uplifting, utter nonsense: “In a land of desire, your heart filled with fire, the land of the evening star!” The combined effect: I suddenly wanted to be on Aeneas’ ship, cutting through the waves on a grand adventure. Completely absorbed, I took a second look at these unknowns’ name: “DragonForce” (these days, thanks to a certain video game, you may have heard of them), playing a heavy metal subgenre called “power metal”.

DragonForce. Photo by Cap’n Jo on Flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

A minor obsession was born.

Power metal bands, I discovered, combine my favorite elements of rock (catchy melodies, powerful high-pitched singing) and heavy metal (speedy guitars, thundering drums) with themes that are often heroic, occasionally tragic or funny, but always epic. They’re throwbacks to the metal of the ‘80’s, Maiden and Priest and Dio, cheerfully launching crowds into anthemic sing-alongs, eschewing the gritty harshness of most ‘90s hard rock.

It’s inspiring, elevating music, and it spoke to my sense of adventure, that carpe diem sensibility that life is a poignant journey of emotions and situations. The fantasy elements evoke a world beyond our daily drudge; more realistic bands and songs play towards relatability. I found the galloping speed-fests and lyrics about grand quests made for blood-pumping workout music, the maudlin ballads were emotionally stirring, and the generally happy tone was a boost to even my worst mood.

The catch: it’s nerdy. It’s legendarily nerdy. It’s the musical equivalent of LARPing, D&D, and Trekkies combined. It’s so nerdy, power metal bands themselves tend to favor either euphemisms (“melodic metal”) or modifiers (“symphonic power metal”). “101 Rules of Power Metal”, a gentle mocking of the genre’s absurdity, is well-known in online metal circles, and spawned an even funnier sequel.

I learned this quickly, and decided not to care. Doubling the size of my nerd mantle was a small price to pay for such fantastic music. My iTunes, long neglected, suddenly began to swell with names like Blind Guardian, Rhapsody and HammerFall. (Around the same time, my younger sister stopped letting me choose the music for car rides.) I learned the lore of these bands: their fantasy mythologies and real-life tribulations (ask me about the sad story of power-metal grandfathers Helloween, or don’t).

Then came the concerts. There weren’t many—the genre is much more popular in Europe—but I started going to every one I could. In September of my sophomore year at Northwestern, I saw Sonata Arctica, Cellador, and Edguy at two shows in three days, sang every lyric, and blew out my voice for a week. At each show, I made sure to snag an over-priced souvenir from the merch table. My T-shirt drawer began to grow increasingly black; having the logos recognized around campus led to new friends and concert buddies.

But one action was a bit more drastic—and probably a bit more frivolous—than the rest: I started growing my hair out. Really, really growing it.

Longer hair for guys is, of course, a trope of almost any metal culture. Plus, it was something I’d always wanted to try at some point, and now I had a probable excuse. I don’t actually play a rock instrument (beyond the plastic variety), but it still seemed like a fun experiment. If I didn’t try it in college, when would I ever get another chance? And how hard could it possibly be? I just had to skip haircuts, right?

Not quite. As I found out after my hair got past about an inch, I do not have the right genes to make this easy. Four months in, it was a wavy mess that I had to keep out of my eyes with gross gel or spray. It distracted me during sports; it went berserk in the slightest humidity. A smarter person would have called it quits and gotten a trim; I sucked it up and wore a hat. My Facebook photos tell the story: I spent my entire sophomore year at Northwestern with truly awful hair.

These days, I like to think I’m past the worst. I’m approaching shoulder-length, and paradoxically, this makes it more manageable. A cheap electric straightener helps. I’ve discovered the true value of good conditioner. I wear a bandanna or a (power-metal) knit cap for sports now; in another few months, I’ll probably be able to tie it all back. In short: success, of a sort.

I still take a lot of ribbing from people who knew me in shorter-haired days. The aforementioned little sister has called me a “caveman”; more that one person has said I look like Jesus (that’s a bad thing?). And for professional purposes, I’ll probably have to cut it eventually.

But for now, when I see those former-nobodies DragonForce once again this December 8th, I’ll have black clothes, locks to fling around in the mosh pit and I’ll fit right in with my happy-nerd-music brethern. For victory, we ride!

“Due to the limited time frame between now and Thursday, there is not adequate time to thoroughly plan for the safety, security, and other logistical needs of this event,” said Tedd Vanadilok, director Asian/Asian American Student Affairs, in an e-mail.

The Muslim cultural Students Association had planned for the former Weather Underground member, whose links to Barack Obama became an issue in the recent presidential campaign, to speak on Thursday night.

“The postponed date will give more time to McSA and the necessary university staff to do this in order to host a safe, efficient, and productive program for everyone involved,” Vanadilok said.

More to come.

From left, Martha Biondi, Mary Pattillo, Marcus Shepard, Iva Carruthers, Latasha Levy, and C. Cole Dillon head one of the panels of the two-day conference. Photo by Darren McRoy / NBN.

A mixture of nostalgia and anger was on display Friday and Saturday at the McCormick Tribune Center. Alumni assembled for a series of conferences remembering the civil-rights gains made in 1968 while lamenting setbacks that have developed in recent years.

The two-day forum, called “The Black Student Movement at Northwestern and its Legacy,” was sponsored by Northwestern’s Center for African American History and drew about 200 visitors, mostly African-American alumni who were invited via a circulated e-mail.

“Forging a Path: Black History at Northwestern” was one panel discussion and a film called “Northwestern 1968” was screened that honored an event in May 1968 when black students staged a sit-in to force the university to agree to increase its black and African-American presence. But by the final discussion, “The Black Community Then and Now: Forging Links and Building a Legacy,” the conversation largely turned to problems facing blacks at Northwestern in 2008—and what the gathered alumni could do to help.

“People said they wanted a mechanism to be able to keep in touch,” said C. Cole Dillon (SESP ‘78), who formerly headed the Northwestern Black Alumni Association (NUBAA). “That’s not enough, because keeping in touch hasn’t helped us to preserve the legacy that we thought we left for students.”

The litany of issues cited by the panel included perceived hostility from the administration (including a former refusal to recognize Martin Luther King Day), the repairs needed for African American Student Affairs’ “Black House,” disorganization of multicultural student affairs groups and, particularly, low black enrollment at Northwestern, with only 81 undergraduate students in the class of 2012.

“Who’s at fault for this?” asked Communications senior Zachary Parker, president of black student group For Members Only (FMO). “Is it the students’ fault? Is it the alumni’s fault? Is it the faculty’s fault? Quite frankly, I think it’s all of our faults.” Parker also blamed black student “individualism” for the difficulty in organizing and spoke out against the university for rescinding an honorary degree extended to Rev. Jeremiah Wright, the guest speaker for FMO’s “State of the Black Union” address on November 7.

By the end of the last panel, a notebook was being circulated to gather contact information with the intent of pooling alumni influence and approaching the administration with the alumni’s concerns.

Alumni who attended say they hope the legacy of their success can inspire Northwestern’s black community today. “When we were complaining about these things one by one, we weren’t taken seriously,” said Kathryn Ogletree (CAS ‘71, PhD ‘76), who took part in the 1968 protests. “[Northwestern’s black groups] wanted to know what happened in ’68, what was the intention. I think that can help revitalize them, refocus them.”

“It’s much more difficult to mobilize students who already think that they won something, that there’s nothing to fight for,” added fellow Northwestern alum Dr. John Bracey, now a professor of Afro-American studies at UMass Amherst. “We’re hoping to give people some sense of what’s possible if they organize. All [we] can do is let them know that change is possible.”

Death Cab for Cutie / Courtesy of Barsuk Records.

A&O (Activities and Organizations) brings several musical acts, speakers and films to Northwestern each year. “We’re the oldest student group on campus and one of the most well-known,” said Barry McCardel, co-director of promotions and public relations and Communication sophomore, “because our mission statement is to bring high-quality entertainment that appeals to the entire campus.”

No doubt the events are well-known and have appeal — last spring’s Flight of the Concords show sold out in 45 minutes. But how does A&O get these bands and speakers?

The process of putting on an A&O event goes in six steps.

I. Inquiries

Somewhere in the tiny, cluttered A&O Norris office — shared by two other student groups — there are huge lists of potential bands and speakers. They’ve been suggested by A&O members, e-mailed in by students and overheard from roommates.

Before any contacts with agents or bands are made though, A&O goes through a first-round narrowing process. “We also try to double-check our assumptions about which artists would be most popular,” says Weinberg senior Forrest Wickman, A&O’s director of concerts. “We look on Facebook, to see which artists are listed under Northwestern students’ favorite music.”

Unlike many organizations, A&O eschews “middle agents” and sends inquiries directly to an artist or speaker’s agent. “We communicate directly with the agents because we have a really good relationship,” says McCardel. Contacting agents directly also cuts down on confusion.

Inside the A&O office. Photo by Sarah Collins / North by Northwestern.

Even with direct contact, the likelihood of rejection is high: The proposed guest might be touring elsewhere, recording an album, on vacation or just unwilling. For getting speakers, “it’s easier in some ways, but more difficult in others,” says Weinberg junior Adam Pumm, A&O’s director of speakers. Speakers have fewer conflicts but often have to be flown from New York or Hollywood.

With Death Cab for Cutie, “we were particularly lucky,” says Wickman. A&O had tried and failed to book Death Cab before, but this year the stars aligned. Of the five or seven bands contacted, “Death Cab seemed like they not only would be the most popular, but also the most available,” Wickman adds.

II. Narrowing

If there’s some positive response from agents or a group, A&O starts to hone in on a final option.

In this phase, A&O’s ten committees investigate the feasibility of their options. The committees re-evaluate the popularity and availability of potential guests, as well as possible venues and the band or speaker’s live-performance quality.

Of great importance is the honorarium — the sum of all fees paid by A&O — which they typically petition the Student Activities Fund for. For the spring Counting Crows concert, “we would have intense meetings,” says A&O chairperson Syd Cohen, a fifth-year Weinberg and Music senior. “We’d be here for hours upon hours going through every single way that we could possibly move some money to make a larger honorarium.”

III. Booking

Once A&O has decided on an artist, they extend an offer to the band or speaker. Included are the honorarium, date, venue, and a number of conditions, such as lodging and transportation. The guest’s agent then replies with a pass, confirmation, or — often — a renegotiation, asking for perhaps a higher honorarium or larger venue.

Next comes the contract. Bands and speakers frequently have a standardized contract that they send to wherever they will visit; Northwestern’s Center for Student Involvement and legal department now add “riders” to the contract, amending the contract to suit Northwestern guidelines.

“There are certain things that a band like Death Cab might expect at a show at a regular venue that Northwestern doesn’t want to provide,” says Pumm about hospitality riders, which specify amenity restrictions. “The majority are focused on reducing the university’s liability.” For instance, Northwestern won’t pay for a guest’s alcohol or allow it in university buildings.

“Some bands can be pretty picky [about equipment] because of their sponsorships,” adds McCormick senior Bryan Cowan, A&O’s director of productions, discussing technical riders. “We have to look it over and make sure that it’s something we’ll be able to provide for them.”

Syd Cohen in the A&O office. Photo by Sarah Collins / North by Northwestern.

With Death Cab, again, there were very few problems: “It did go exceptionally smoothly,” says Wickman. The only issue: finding a workable venue big enough. “At least in recent memory, we had not done a fall show at the Riv[iera Theatre].”

IV. Production

The production phase, leading up to the event, involves seemingly countless tasks: figuring out staging and sound, deciding who gets how much of merchandise profit, producing tickets, seeking corporate sponsors and negotiating with Student Affairs, just to name a few.

If it sounds like a gigantic mess, it’s not. “It’s incredibly organized and streamlined,” Cohen says. “There’s a process, and a lot of things are going on simultaneously. We know what we’re doing, and it’s almost innate to us at this point.”

Another big moment for A&O is the announcement of the concert, followed by a promotional campaign — which has actually been planned since the original confirmation. The announcement of Death Cab for Cutie was done in stylish triplicate: Simultaneously, a post went on the website, campus media were contacted, and a pre-made poster was slipped into Norris’ Dittmar Gallery (which was already hosting a display of A&O posters).

The various elements, details, and kinks of production are worked on constantly up until the day of the show. “We’re still working,” producer Cowen declares two days before the Death Cab show. “I’m still working with the production people on both ends.”

V. Show Day

Depending on the venue, show day can either be fairly relaxed or insane. A speaker, for instance, is usually less demanding than a band. And for Death Cab on Friday, most of the work has been outsourced to the pros at the Riviera. A&O members will co-ordinate buses, take shifts at will call, and leave shortly after the concert.

But there are always problems that arise: artists’ planes landing late, drivers getting lost, missing equipment. Pumm remembers one show-day fix for OK Go: “I had to drive down to Arlington Heights to get a glockenspiel.”

“You feel a sense of ownership over the day,” says Cohen. Laughing, she adds, “Producers thrive off of adrenaline and stress. If you don’t like the eleventh hour, you’re not meant to be a producer.”

Of course, what goes up must come down, and that includes the stage. Once the last power chord has been blasted, the breakdown begins, and can last well into the early morning. Still, just as with the setup, A&O say it’s a highlight, not a chore. “We save money, and it’s a good team-building experience,” Cowan says.

VI. Aftermath

It’s not quite over when it’s over. There’s the occasional next-day responsibility — like driving the guest back to the airport. Doing so in the spring, Cohen and Cowan ended up in a Blender interview with Bret McKenzie (of Flight of the Concords). “If you read them talking about ‘giggling girls’ — that’s me and Bryan,” Cohen laughs.

Wickman remembers the feeling after a day of building, then tearing down, an entire stage, which he calls “post-show soreness… You think your hands are just dirty, then you wash them, and there’s a thousand microscopic cuts from the metal.”

Any regrets? Any hesitations? Absolutely not. After the Death Cab show on Friday, Cowan says, there’s no stopping to rest. “This show will end, we’ll have our post-production meeting Sunday, and on Monday we’ll be thinking about the next show.”

“This,” Cohen declares, “is what we all live for at Northwestern.”

Any of the above sound good? Unfortunately, if you’re in a dorm and rely on the computer-based expanded NUTV service for programming, you’re going to need to find alternatives.

Though NUTV includes 37 channels, including Spike, FX and Nickelodeon, several student favorites are left out. Missing are some fairly basic cable networks— Bravo (Runway), Sci-Fi (Galactica), NFL Network (Replay) and Independent Film (IT Crowd)— as well as premium channels like HBO (True Blood) and Showtime (Dexter).

Junior Allie Kerr spent her first two years at Northwestern in Shepard, without access to Bravo, a favorite network. Her solution: day-after Project Runway parties with friends, watching the show as YouTube clips. “It was kind of pathetic, but we were addicted, so we did what we could,” she says. “It was rough because you’d have to avoid spoilers for that 24-hour span.”

Most networks, though, protect their financial interests and copyrights by pulling any full episodes from sites like YouTube— making it not just a matter of seeing a show immediately, but seeing it any time in the near future.

Freshman Jordan Blumenthal, who says he misses programming on Showtime and HBO, calls the lack of certain channels “an inconvenience.” For dorm residents to watch shows like Showtime’s Californication, “you have to resort to either waiting for it to come on DVD [or] illegal means of downloading it.”

Director of technology support services Wendy King cautions against the latter choice. “The university has policies in place against any infringement of copyright law,” King says. “I would caution that if someone wants to watch a show, they get it from a legal source.” That’s a warning to take seriously— last summer, over a dozen Northwestern students faced litigation from the RIAA for illegal downloading.

But dorm students need not despair. For the dedicated, Northwestern resourcefulness can carry the day. For instance, Kerr caught her hometown Washington Redskins games (rarely broadcast in Chicago) with Sirius online radio alongside online play-by-play charts. Other options for catching some of those more elusive shows:

• Channel websites: Some networks host a few episodes of their shows online. The Sci-Fi channel website has a bunch. In the case of missed hometown NFL games, NFL.com offers fairly detailed highlight reels.
  • Pros: You’re getting it from the official sites, so it’s legal. You’ve got it right at home on your computer. And there are little to no commercials. (For instance—although NUTV does get Comedy Central—The Daily Show’s website features about two commercials per complete episode.)
  • Cons: Unfortunately, very few networks do this, and the ones that do are liable to show you just enough to get you hooked. Others might feature only minute-long clips.
• Other websites: Hulu.com and Veoh.com are two of the most popular sites for streaming entire episodes of TV shows, and are certified legitimate. (Other streaming sites are either illegal or, in the case of well-known database surfthechannel.com, stream from other sites that are frequently illegal.)
  • Pros: Videos on-demand straight from the internet onto your computer, frequently just after they air. Many older shows and lesser-known channels. In the case of Hulu and Veoh, currently no legal issues.
  • Cons: A lot of clips, but rarely full episodes. Neither has anything from HBO, and Hulu only has complete episodes of a few Bravo shows. Currently, Veoh does have a video of the Dexter Season 3 pilot, as well as a few other Showtime shows (Weeds is one) but the site’s player has a bad reputation and the video collection is far from complete.
• Slingbox: A invention of a California company called Sling Media, the Slingbox is a nifty gadget that transfers your home video signal over the Internet straight to your computer. Known as “place-shifting” (in comparison to TiVo’s “time-shifting”), Slingbox and comparative products are thought by many to be the next development in television convenience.
  • Pros: Any show you get at home, you get on your computer. Change channels from the comfort of your dorm room with an infrared signaler that latches onto your home cable box.
  • Cons: It’s not exactly easy to set up. You’d need to do part at home, part at your dorm, and the process might look tricky (or impossible) to a non-technophile. If you do get it working, the feed can occasionally look choppy.
• Non-dorm friends: Expanded NUTV only reaches Northwestern’s dorms— fraternities, sororities and off-campus residents all have independent service packages. If you can find a fellow fan with a TV and a subscription, why not suggest throwing a weekly party?
  • Pros: The best option: no questionable legality, no fancy technology, just TV on TV. Better yet, you’ll be sure to have someone to watch with who enjoys the show as much as you do.
  • Cons: You’ll need to find that friend, and they’ll have to pay for the service—which, of course, is the reason it’s hard to find for free in the first place. And a quick caveat for freshmen: You’re not allowed in a fraternity house until October 12^th.

]]> http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/10/11931/beyond-nutv-getting-around-dorms-limited-programming/feed/ 0 http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/10/11950/1-vs-20-chess-grandmaster-visits-smashes-northwestern/ http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/10/11950/1-vs-20-chess-grandmaster-visits-smashes-northwestern/#comments Mon, 06 Oct 2008 04:01:55 +0000 Darren McRoy http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/?p=11950

Audio slideshow by Taylor Ervin.

One man. Twenty chessboards. No sweat.

U.S. chess champion and grandmaster Yury Shulman took down 20 challengers at the Kellogg Atrium on Thursday, playing all games simultaneously. Total time elapsed: two hours, 30 minutes.

At the event, hosted by Northwestern chess club 64 Squares, Shulman signed a copy of Chess Life, told his personal story — born in Belarus, began studying chess at the age of six, became an international grandmaster in 1995, moved to the U.S. in 1999 — and proceeded to beat the stuffing out of his opponents, rarely spending more than 10 seconds on each move.

“His position was so much better, and I didn’t have a lot of good moves,” said Weinberg senior Alex Chun, one of the first to resign after having his queen and king forked. “It was weird — he was playing 20 games, but it felt like he was always at my table before I knew what I was doing or had any semblance of a plan.”

The “simul,” a popular challenge for highly ranked players, is the fourth-annual held by 64 Squares; Shulman, with his U.S. championship title and 2,616 international rating, is the highest-caliber guest to date.

“It’s not every day you get to play a player of that ability,” said 64 Squares president James Smallwood, another Shulman victim despite drawing against last year’s visitor, grandmaster Dmitry Gurevich. “There aren’t many grandmasters in the United States, or in the world, so it’s a pretty rare event.”

Shulman, who will represent the United States at the 38^th Chess Olympiad in Dresden this November, was complimentary about Northwestern students’ performances.

“Three positions were very close, so at one point I thought one was going to be a draw, and in another I was down a piece,” he said afterward. “It was a very interesting match.”

]]> http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/10/11950/1-vs-20-chess-grandmaster-visits-smashes-northwestern/feed/ 0 http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/11009/fifteen-year-fans-the-gathering-united-by-a-90s-disney-cartoon/ http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/11009/fifteen-year-fans-the-gathering-united-by-a-90s-disney-cartoon/#comments Fri, 27 Jun 2008 03:20:14 +0000 Darren McRoy http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/?p=11009

Other Chicago fan conventions this summer

GREEN PARTY NATIONAL CONVENTION

July 10-13

Sort of like a Ralph Nader fan convention, the official party of tree-huggers will congregate at the Palmer House Hilton to decide which of their members will receive less than 1 percent of the November vote this time.

TERMINUS (HARRY POTTER)

August 7-11

They couldn’t get J.K. Rowling, but they did get her editor, Cheryl Klein. And, for some reason, kids author Tamora Pierce. The magic will invade the Hilton Chicago in August.

STARGATE SG-1/STARGATE ATLANTIS

August 22-24

The most popular “Star-___” series since Star Wars. And Star Trek. And possibly Star Jones. Guests at the O’Hare Wyndam will include Michael Shanks and Ben Browder.

A decade ago, when Anthony Zucconi met Andrea Ivanovs, they weren’t exactly themselves. He was dressed as sleazy mob boss Tony Dracon; she was dressed as the gargoyle form of New York City policewoman Elisa Maza. Their personas were rivals, but they must have looked cute together — enough to be awarded the title of “Cutest Couple” from Greg Weisman, one of the very men who created both characters.

Exactly one year later, Zucconi and Ivanovs were in costume again. This time, he was a self-serving, pony-tailed CEO named David Xanatos; she was the same Elisa Maza, but in the character’s human form. On the masquerade floor, he asked her to marry him. “I knew I wanted to propose at the ‘Gathering,’” he says. “Because without it, we wouldn’t be together.”

That “Gathering” was, and is, the Gathering of the Gargoyles, a convention held by hardcore fans of the animated Disney television series “Gargoyles.” From June 27 to 30, the 12th annual Gathering will host about 200 devotees at the Hotel Orrington, a block from the Northwestern campus. Fans and friends will arrive from California, New York and even overseas to discuss Gargoyles semantics, browse “Gargoyles” artwork, participate in a “Gargoyles” radio play and “mug” (interrogate) a member of the show’s original production team.

What about this semi-old cartoon is so inspiring for them? The Gathering’s Web site tells a poignant truth: for its followers, in unexpected ways, the show “brought us together and in some way, small or large, changed each of us.”

“We were making something special”

In 1991, then-28-year-old Greg Weisman was a Disney executive heading a team to develop new shows for the Disney Afternoon programming block when the idea for “Gargoyles” came to him. “I was always fascinated with this idea of gargoyles,” he says, “that you put up something ugly on your wall to scare away something worse.” His team originally pitched it as a comedy series, but Disney CEO Michael Eisner didn’t bite. So Weisman revamped the concept with less-cute critters and a darker, semi-Gothic tone.

His timing was right. With the recent success of Beauty and the Beast, Disney felt ugly was hot. In 1994, the show made its debut on Disney Afternoon, and quickly gained a following. As part of a syndicated block, free from network censorship, Weisman was able to push the envelope a little further, exploring themes as complex as genocide and inter-species romance. Consequently, even parents could enjoy the adventures of animated, speaking gargoyles transplanted from 10th-century Scotland to the rooftops of modern-day Manhattan. In their new home, the intelligent beasts wake from stone each night to fight foes like Xanatos, the anger-filled gargoyle Demona and reality-TV stars “The Pack.”

“It wasn’t dumbed down,” says Jennifer Anderson, known as “CrzyDemona” in the community, who began watching Gargoyles in 1994. “It was enough that me and my husband could watch it, and my four kids loved it as well. It’s got a little something for everyone.”

Fourteen years later, Anderson is the volunteer president of Gathering of the Gargoyles, Inc., the non-profit organization that manages the convention. She has attended 10 conventions to date.

Weisman said that, while he knew from its conception that Gargoyles was something special, “I never could have imagined that years later we would have any conventions, let alone 12.”

Salvaging a series

Few animated shows are as long-lived as “The Simpsons”; most are lucky to last more than a season or two. “Gargoyles” met an ignoble demise: Disney assigned a completely different production staff to the third season, retitled the show “The Goliath Chronicles” after the main character, and released 13 episodes so reviled by the community that they still refuse to acknowledge the third season’s existence. The show was quickly canceled in 1997.

That could have been the end for “Gargoyles.” Instead, with the help of the then-new Internet, word began to circulate through mailing lists. People began to talk of a convention, and a woman named Mae Li offered to host it in New York. Patrick Toman, a college junior at the time, learned of the event through Station 8, a pioneer online forum centered around “Gargoyles.” “In the fall of ’96, I first got the Internet,” he says, and instantly “started looking for ‘Gargoyles’ sites.” Today, Toman is one of only three fans to have attended every single Gathering.

After the second convention, also in New York, the Gathering went on tour across North America. In 1999, it was in Dallas; in 2000, Orlando. The convention left the States for the first time in 2004 to be hosted in Montreal. Members of the tight-knit community greet each iteration as a focal point in their year — a chance to make new friends and reunite with the old.

“It’s like a family reunion for us,” Zucconi says (and Anderson uses the exact same words). “We all live so far away that it’s the only time we can see each other. I’ve become close friends with people from every walk of life.”

Bringing friends and family together for the Gatherings, however, is no easy task. Susan Leonard, 41, of Lincolnshire had to begin planning this year’s convention in Evanston almost two years ago. The annual conventions survive, she says, thanks only to the dedication of fans.

More intimate than Star Trek

At Gathering 2008, the four days of festivities will be jam-packed with constant “Gargoyles”-related activity. Panels have names like “Combat & Weapons” and “Gargoyles Biology & Culture.” Attendees audition for and perform a radio play based on the show. The highlight event, the masquerade ball, takes place on Sunday night. Participants are encouraged to dress as a favorite character (called “cosplay,” short for “costume-playing”) and dance until midnight.

Comparisons to Star Trek conventions, long infamous for their oft-crazed “Trekkie” attendees, are inevitable. The two series even share a number of actors: John Rhys-Davies, Jonathan Frakes and a dozen others have both lent their voices to “Gargoyles” and appeared on a version of Star Trek. But Patrick Toman, a member of both fandoms, says there’s a core difference at the conventions: intimacy. At the much smaller Gatherings, “you’re not in awe looking up at [special guests] — you get to talk with them person-to-person,” Toman says. “I think if I had to choose between a big Star Trek con and a Gathering, I’d choose the Gathering.”

This year, those guests will include Weisman, Adcox and Keith David, who voiced the gargoyle Goliath. They are flown in and accommodated at the hotel for a weekend, then sit for free at “Mug-A-Guest” sessions where almost any question can be put forth. While guests are treated like celebrities, their fans are often also their close friends. Weisman is more like a friendly patriarch than a looming superstar, though fans like Leonard aren’t shy about calling him “absolutely brilliant.”

“I work in what, emotionally, can be a pretty tough business,” Weisman says. “I go to this ‘Gargoyles’ convention once a year, and I get an ego-boost that just carries me through into the next summer.”

Married with children?

Groups like the Gargoyles fanatics often fall into a category of “wispy communities” — groups that interact little outside of their respective conventions, says Northwestern University sociology professor Gary Fine. In these groups, Fine says, “you’re not likely to find many men and women who have children. When you get engaged [or] married, each of those are forces that push you out of these voluntary subcultures.”

But Fine might be surprised at the Gathering. The convention-goers do return to ordinary lives and jobs after the event: Leonard is a dog-breeder, Toman a structural engineer, Morgan a residential counselor. And the immediacy of the Internet lets them stay in touch through fan work and forums.

In addition, many members of the community do indeed have kids. Leonard is a mother of two, and Jennifer Anderson’s kids range from 11 to 18. One, Stephanie Scoggins, 18, says that “Gargoyles” has been a part of her life for as long as she can remember, and she passed it along to her younger siblings. “They were exposed to it as soon as they were able to focus on a TV,” Scoggins says.

And most fans find their friends and relatives supporting of their unique interest. “My family think it’s great that I found someone with a similar interest,” says Andrea Zucconi. “They don’t have a problem with it. But my grandmother’s still kind of scared.”

Of her husband?

“No!” she laughs. “Of the gargoyles!”

Geeky and proud of it

For many “Gargoyles” fans, the 2008 Evanston Gathering will be the central four days of their year. They’ll be doing what they love, with the people they consider both inspirations and friends.

They will create memories, as with last year’s Gathering in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., when Tony Zucconi and a group of friends all got tattooed with the show’s “Phoenix Gate” symbol. “If that doesn’t show the love for the show, then nothing will,” Zucconi says. “The Navy has given me the power to protect people all over the world, but Gargoyles was what kept me going through the hardest times.”

Andrea liked the tattoo; she provided the drawing. “We’re all terrible geeks,” she says cheerfully. “But we’re proud geeks.”

Proud geeks, indeed, and ones with no intention of renouncing their geekhood. Plans for the 2009 Gathering are already in place. And so just as the series’ gargoyles live in clans, so does the clan of Gargoyles fly onward in their noble—geeky—quest.

]]> http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/11009/fifteen-year-fans-the-gathering-united-by-a-90s-disney-cartoon/feed/ 1 http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/10774/promotion/ http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/10774/promotion/#comments Tue, 03 Jun 2008 04:36:27 +0000 Darren McRoy http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/?p=10774

Seann William Scott and John C. Reilly in The Promotion. Promotional photo.

You probably remember Seann William Scott for exactly two film roles: Steve Stifler, in American Pie and “That Guy Across From Ashton” in Dude, Where’s My Car?. His other latest — let’s say, “attempts” — have been a duo of stupid movies, called The Dukes of Hazzard and Mr. Woodcock. But Scott may finally have broken out. His latest comedy, The Promotion, is actually funny, has a competent director and co-star, and gives Scott the perfect adult role to fit his boyish, slightly vacant grin.

Scott is the young newlywed, Doug. John C. Reilly is the middle-aged father, Richard. Doug and Richard are supermarket employees vying for a manager spot at a new branch and they get into hijinks competing for the job, to the distress of the executive board.

With a distinctly human touch, The Promotion transcends its genre: The foibles are amusing but the stakes are high. What begins as a fight over a promotion turns into a battle for each man’s marriage, and very life. Writer/director Steve Conrad, a Northwestern alum (Weinberg ‘91), went here before with his script for The Pursuit of Happyness; here he adds a comedic element without losing any of the heart.

It’s a Chicago indie film to the last frame: clearly small-budget, filled with a D-list supporting cast (although Jason Bateman makes a welcome cameo). A running gag, funny the first two times, becomes overdone. The final resolution, a little too convenient, doesn’t quite deliver on the tension. But there’s plenty to empathize with (Reilly plays a sad-sack like no other), and to laugh at (one employee with particularly repulsive habits is a hoot). Scott’s very best joke is saved for last; like The Promotion, it’ll hit both your funny bone and your heart.

Rating: B

We caught up with Steve Conrad a week before the film’s June 6 release.

NBN: Was The Promotion based on your personal experiences?

Conrad: Sure. It’s the fate of most people to move into a city where you can’t afford any privacy. The hunger to rise above that a little, that was a condition of my 20s and early 30s for sure. Finally, you live like that long enough, you have to laugh about it.

You’re going up against Adam Sandler (You Don’t Mess With the Zohan) and Jack Black (Kung Fu Panda). Will The Promotion compete?

I think everyone’s crossing their fingers and hoping that if people liked it, they’ll share it. It’s a small movie. It doesn’t need to make $100 million.

In real life, who would run a supermarket better? Seann or John?

Oh my God, it’s so doomed either way. John Reilly worked in a supermarket, so I would choose John.

How did studying at Northwestern contribute to your success?

Honestly, the nearest I can pinpoint that is that I got encouragement from one writing teacher who told me that if I bore down on it that I could be a professional writer.

If you could paint the Rock to promote The Promotion, what would you write?

Oh, I would just draw a stick figure with a grocery bag on his head. And I would write, “Have a nice day.” You should go do that for me.

What’s next for you?

I have a movie called The Expanding Mailman.

The Expanding Mailman?

Yeah. I wanted to shoot it at Northwestern. The message I got is that it’s hard in the fall, with school going on there, but we’re gonna try and work something out. The first hour of the movie takes place on a college campus, so it would be the college.

Oh, cool. Would there be extras roles for Northwestern students?

Absolutely.

]]> http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/06/10774/promotion/feed/ 1 http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/04/9183/forbidden-kingdom/ http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2008/04/9183/forbidden-kingdom/#comments Sat, 19 Apr 2008 23:12:09 +0000 Darren McRoy http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/?p=9183

The Forbidden Kingdom was only interesting when stuff like this happened. Photo courtesy Lionsgate.

Going to a movie pre-screening at Chicago’s AMC River East usually takes about four hours. What’s it like? On my quest Thursday night to see The Forbidden Kingdom, a new Jackie Chan pic opening this weekend, I took a few notes along the way:

7 p.m.: On the intercampus shuttle. Pregame… by watching The Last Samurai. Remembered how corny the end of that film is. Listen to Avantasia instead, which is equally corny, but at least has nothing to do with Tom Cruise.

7:45: Arrive at reserved seats. Check press notes, which tell me film has Jackie Chan and Jet Li, and is about “a teenager who makes an extraordinary discovery that sends him hurtling back in time to ancient China”. Reminded of A Kid in King Arthur’s Court, which was so much better than that knockoff Mark Twain did.

8:05: Film begins. See that the credits designer noticed that both stars’ names start with the same letter and turned it into a Scrabble play (double-word score: 80).

8:15: We meet the aforementioned teenager, Jason (Michael Angarano). He’s a kung-fu-movie nerd who’s bullied by a character made of hair gel and overacting (Morgan Benoit) into abetting a robbery. An old dude gets shot. Jason runs, is chased, falls off a building, and gets warped into a Chinese village—

8:16: —that is promptly sacked. This kid can’t catch a — hey, it’s Jackie! In the role of the drunken master, which he’s certainly never played before.

8:28: Get the backstory. Something about a monkey dude. Am too busy drooling over the fights (that emperor guy [Collin Chou] hurtled, like, a thousand spears at once!). Note that the producers left the whole time-travel thing out of the trailer.

8:39: From the Grand List of Fantasy Clichés: “Evil villain must always kill at least one henchman, no matter how loyal he is.”

8:44: The promised Chan/Li fight — also called “Christmas” — comes early. Neither man is in his prime, but the added gimmick of fighting over a staff — instead of just with a staff — makes up for it. (So much for Fearless being Li’s last action film.) Despite being only 40 minutes in, we’ve already seen fights on a mountain peak, on a road, in a bar, and in at three separate temples. It’s a good thing, too, because the non-fighting scenes are as interesting as the inside of my eyelids.

9:04: Must have jinxed it. There hasn’t been a fight in 20 minutes. Instead we got a derivative training montage, along with what I’m pretty sure was a shot of Mordor.

9:07: Finally, a fight, with the Chinese edition of Storm (BingBing Li). Huh.

9:26: Our teenage hero is now a kung-fu contender (if you didn’t see that coming, you’re probably too young to be in the theater anyway), but his teachers never taught him not to be, y’know, stupid. Am obliged to mention Golden Sparrow (Yifei Liu), the numbskull’s inexplicable love interest, who isn’t even in my press notes. Maybe it’s because her character is generic and dull.

9:29: What do you know? An actually original twist that I, at least, didn’t see coming.

9:41: Well, after all of the fighting ends, we get one last set of “twists” — and these, believe me, are not original. They’d make O. Henry gag. The last shot is of a staff swinging at the screen, appropriate as the last scene is essentially clobbering the audience. End of film.

9:50: Play Pac-Man in the lobby. I think I break the controller.

10:20: Reflect on the film while waiting for the shuttle. There’s about equal amounts right and wrong with The Forbidden Kingdom and, as you might expect, it’s directly proportional to the amount of action on-screen. Disappointed with director Rob Minkoff, one of the brains behind The Lion King, even if he’d already demolished his credibility with 2003’s abysmal The Haunted Mansion. Can only recommend this for hardcore Chan/Li fans, or for rental to fast-forward through the parts where Michael Angarano does anything more than get hit a lot.

10:48: Attacked by ninjas on the shuttle ride home. Fight them off single-handedly with my spontaneously developed Blazing Ring-Tailed Lemur technique. Master Chan will be pleased.

Rating: C+

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